


The Doctor Is In

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, No Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He comes home late that night, his body drenched with sweat from a 10 hours shift. This isn’t how Hannibal idealized his run from the United States, but according to his once-psychiatrist, he had a habit of getting lost in whimsy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Doctor Is In

He comes home late that night, his body drenched with sweat from a 10 hours shift. This isn’t how Hannibal idealized his run from the United States, but according to his once-psychiatrist, he had a habit of getting lost in whimsy.

Unfortunately, both his mind and body are tired of the profession. It’s a small district, in a tiny town and a miniscule clinic. His desk is simply a wooden table that he shares with the older Doctor who owns the facility, a nice enough man who can now only ‘practice’ for roughly 2 days a week. It’s the only work he could procure, besides farm hand, and Hannibal was _thankful_ that the Doctor suddenly needed help when his rude partner suddenly _disappeared._ After all, he had a lifestyle to uphold. One didn’t go from rags to riches to rags, _twice._

When Hannibal enters the bedroom, the night-table lamp still illuminating the space, he notices that the bed is empty, the plush spread still untouched. It wasn’t like her to be up so late, but he doesn’t fool himself into believing it is _concern_ or _worry_ that kept her from slumber. He was nearly 4 hours late tonight, as the clinic quickly became crammed throughout the day. Bedelia’s journal is abandoned in the on the plush high-back chair, her reading glasses on the table and he glances around the room, noticing a small light from beneath the bathroom door. Hannibal soundlessly moves towards the bathroom, hoping to catch her bathing once again. It’s a terrible habit, he knows, but Bedelia has always been quite the exhibitionist. Quietly cracking the door to their master bathroom, Hannibal sees a sight he’s never seen before and it almost feels _too_ intimate, despite their frequent carnal inclinations.

Bedelia is dressed in a mid thigh red negligee, her foot perched on the porcelain bath tub. It is in this moment, as he watches the razor slide up her creamy flesh, that he truly feels the domesticity of their relationship. Her azure, concentrated eyes shift at the sudden creak of the door and the blade skims too sharply against her skin, nicking her leg. ‘Dammit,’ Bedelia curses under her breath, sending him a glare that is meant to butcher him. She rises from the toilet seat, moving to their medicinal cabinet, rummaging for the styptic pencil.  

 “Here, let me help,” he locates the item from his vantage point easily, grabbing it from the top shelf, and she sighs in relief. Bedelia quickly applies the mineral-laced pencil to her leg, stopping the bleeding from the small cut. The nick will show for only a day, if she’s lucky, but the pantyhose in her top drawer can always cover the tiny mistake.

“How was the clinic?” she asks with the normalcy of a wife of 10 years, and he almost feels like their marriage is _real._ When his brow furrows, she takes a step closer, wrapping her small arms around his torso. “I know you never wanted to return to medicine, but it’s the only identification-“

“The work is mundane.” He admits, and Bedelia sighs deeply. “Upset stomach, headache, and occasional broken bone.”

“Hannibal, we cannot burn through another identity simply because you-”

He huffs loudly, and pushes her away, angered at her insinuation. Did she really expect something so _childish_ of him?  He had no intention of discarding this identity until it was the only option. He only killed two men since assuming this identity nearly 3 months ago. Leaving the bathroom and nearly stomping across the floor, he hears her questioning voice.

“You asked me to reign you in, did you not?”  He pauses from removing his shirt, turning to stare at her, incredulously.

“I _did not_ request a sitter to wait for me to come home, only to _scold_ me like a child.” His words are meant to cut her, but instead her lips twist into an unfamiliar grin.

“I was waiting, but not for the reason you imply.” Bedelia crosses the room and begins slowly unbuttoning his shirt with her agile fingers “I wanted to come to the clinic today,”

“Delia?” The endearment slips easily from his tongue and his eyebrows knot in worry momentarily before he catches her lust-filled eyes.

 “I have a throbbing in my stomach,” she takes his hand, pressing it to the hot space right above her pubic bone, “but it’s a bit lower and I can’t seem to soothe it myself,” her voice is deep and throaty as she lowers his hand, encouraging his fingers to travel beneath the negligee. Bedelia arches her feet until she’s nearly on her toes, and bites the space between Hannibal’s neck and collar bone, eliciting a hiss. “I’m sure you have the proper treatment, Doctor.”  

Maybe becoming a physician again wasn’t so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me your thoughts and if you have a prompt you'd like me to write, send it to my tumblr imbox: "ShadequeenScully"


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